


The Most Incredible Eyes

by USSFriendship



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Protective Bucky Barnes, Strike Team Delta rides again, Temporary Blindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/USSFriendship/pseuds/USSFriendship
Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves Clint temporarily blind, and Bucky does everything in his power to take care of his injured boyfriend.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 20
Kudos: 158
Collections: Winterhawk Valentine's Day 2020 Blind Date Exchange





	The Most Incredible Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thirdspinsterfromtheleft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdspinsterfromtheleft/gifts).



> Happy Valentine’s Day! Have some fluffy soft boys to brighten your day!

The mission had been a shitshow. Two weeks ago, before everything had fallen apart, Clint had been so excited. The mission was supposed to be a milk run, and Strike Team Delta reunion. One of the few open cases in Clint’s professional history became active again when an old mark - long dormant and presumed dead - suddenly made a comeback. It took almost no time for the plan to come together, and before Bucky knew it, he was watching the quinjet holding Clint, Natasha, and Coulson take off. For Budapest, of all places, which made even Bucky chuckle. The files for that mission were classified, and the only people who really knew what had happened were Clint, Natasha, and Phil, and obviously none of them ever gave specifics, but it seemed pretty clear that the three had had very different experiences and thought the other two were insane. Speculation ran wild, and it had become a sort of fairytale amongst the avengers. Anyway, it was supposed to be a cake walk. Two, maybe three days, tops. 

The first night, Clint made a video call. Coulson and Natasha in the background, making fun of all the sappy shit they said, or heckling one of the two of them. 

“Hey,” Clint said, as the call was winding down, “give Lucky a piece of pizza, and call Alpine an asshole while scratching his ears for me.” 

Bucky snorted, “absolutely not. I am nowhere near as tolerant of pepperoni dog farts as you are, and Alpine is sweet and wonderful and perfect, and totally not an asshole.” As if on cue, a large fluff ball the color of freshly fallen snow jumped up on Bucky lap and bopped him on the nose. “Ok, mostly not an asshole,” Bucky amended, with a chuckle. 

“Totally an asshole,” Clint corrected, before heaving sigh. “Ok, babe, I gotta go. I think we’ll be home tomorrow. Prolly late, though. I love your stupid face.” Bucky heard Phil and Nat ‘awww’ condescendingly in the background. Clint just smiled through the screen at him and threw what looked like a wad of paper over his shoulder, which was followed by a muffled ‘ow, Barton, what the hell?’ from Phil and a cackle from Natasha. “Seriously, I gotta go before the peasants start revolting. I love you. See you soon.” 

The screen went blank before Bucky could reply. He spent a minute wondering if Phil and Natasha were the peasants, or if it had something to do with the mission, before letting the thought go completely. Clint was one of the most competent people he knew - well, Hawkeye was; Clint Barton was sort of a mess - and, considering who their friends were, that was a pretty huge statement. Even still, he worried. It took him ninety-something yeras of bullshit to find Clint, and he was determined to hold onto that man with both hands, and for as long as he could. 

The next evening, his phone chirped, alerting him to a text from an unknown number. Bucky always hated that. He got it, he and the rest of the Avengers were technically covert operatives, and occasionally they had to use burner phones and such to communicate, but something about it always put his teeth on edge, mostly because those messages were very rarely happy ones. 

_ <Unknown Number> tango uniform. +/- Lucky. 143 _

Shit. The mission had gone wrong - tits up, which normally made both of them laugh, but now was just a little horrifying. +/- Lucky… ok, they were safe, more or less. Clint loved him. It really wasn’t anything to worry about. Missions went south as often as they didn’t, and Bucky (and the rest of the Avengers, and all of SHIELD…) knew that Strike Team Delta were the best. That said, having nothing to worry about had never actually stopped James Barnes from worrying. 

The days ticket by, and Bucky spent them mostly staring at his phone, willing it to give him more information about his boyfriend, occasionally breaking his vigil when Steve showed up to drag him down to the gym to spar or force him to eat. Occasionally he would get a text from a new unknown number letting him know they were safe but n the move, and Bucky honestly didn’t know if they made him feel better or not. 

Then, twelve days after they left, Bucky got a call from Natasha’s phone, and Bucky’s heart dropped. The only reason Clint wouldn’t call him himself is if he physically couldn’t, and Bucky couldn’t handle that thought. 

“Buck,” Steve, who had apparently just materialized at his side, said. “Answer the phone.” 

“Stevie, I can’t,” Bucky said brokenly. “There’s only one reason he ain’t caillin’ me himself.” 

Steve gave a small chuckle. “Yeah, he probably broke his phone again,” he said gently. 

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to Steve’s. “You know something. Tell me, Rogers.” 

“Just answer the phone, Buck.” 

Steve was right, and Bucky knew it, so he did as he was told. “Natalia,” he croaked into the phone. 

“Sorry to disappoint, Buck…” Clint answered. 

Clint kept talking, but all Bucky could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. Clint was one the phone. He was ok. 

“Buck? Hey babe, you there?” 

Clint’s question snapped Bucky back to the present. “Yeah, Clint. I’m here. Sorry. I just…” Bucky’s voice cracked, and he took a deep breath to try and get his shit together, “‘m just so happy to hear your voice, Love. You ok?” 

“Yeah, Buck. I’m ok. Well…” Clint trailed off, and Bucky finally heard the strain in Clint’s voice. “‘M a little banged up. Gonna be right as rain, though.” Bucky heard some rustling in the background, and what sounded like Clint talking to someone with his hand over the phone. Clint’s voice came back a few seconds late. “Taskmaster Romanoff is making me get off the phone, because she is a mean, mean woman. We’re on our way home now, so I’ll see...uh, I’ll be with you in a few hours. I’m gonna hand the phone to Tash now, before she gets meaner.” 

Before Bucky can say goodbye, Natasha’s calm, smooth voice comes over the line, “James,” she starts. “He will be fine, but - hold on, let me move.” he hears nothing for several seconds, and the silence makes his skin crawl, a dozen horrible thoughts flash through his mind at once. Before he can get too worked up, she’s back. “James, he will be fine. Medical in the Kuala Lumpur office checked him out and gave him the all clear. He’s grounded for four weeks, and will be on bed rest for a week, but he will be fine. But,” she takes a deep breath, “he has a concussion.” 

A concussion? Sure, concussions can be serious, but Clint’s had enough that he knows the drill by now. He says as much to Natasha. 

“Yes, but this one, it. James, he can’t see. It is temporary, and it’s already starting to come back in fits and starts. ‘Post-trauma vision syndrome’ it’s called. The doctors think it will resolve itself completely in a few days, but, James, he…” she trails off. 

Clint’s blind. Fuck. “Yeah,” he croaks, “I can imagine.” 

“Yes. Exactly. Look, he will be fine, but I wanted you to know before you saw him. I have to go. We’ll be back in less than two hours.” With that, the line goes dead. 

Fuck. Clint’s vision is everything to him. On any given day, he is convinced it is the only thing he has to offer the world. He is wrong, of course, but he just can’t be convinced of that. That won’t stop Bucky from trying, though. 

He spends the next hour and forty-seven minutes cleaning the apartment, trying to remove any potential tripping hazards and making the bed and couch as soft and comfortable as possible, when FRIDAY lets him know the quinjet is five minutes out. He takes one last glance around to make sure everything is in its place before he heads to the hangar to meet them when they arrive. 

He stands stock-still behind the plane, using every bit of his sniper training to keep himself from twitching. He has no idea what he will greet him when the ramp opens and he sees Clint for the first time. 

What he ends up seeing is Clint standing at the top of the ramp, Natasha on his left and Phil on his right. The three look tired and a little banged up, but nothing particularly severe. His stomach gives a lurch when Clint starts walking down the ramp to him. Nothing looks wrong, and he starts to hope that Natasha was wrong and Clint is actually fine. 

That all falls apart when Clint stops suddenly at the bottom of the ramp and looks right at him, only to immediately look away. “Bucky?” he says softly. 

Clint hadn’t seen him. Had looked right at him, but didn’t see him. Bucky realizes that, of course Clint knows how many steps it is to the bottom of the ramp. Hell, Clint could probably make it all the way back to their apartment without running into anything, having memorized the route because that’s who Clint was. Knowing his surroundings was his job, and he was the best at it, and it all came from the fact that he saw everything. Everything. 

“Clint,” he forced himself to sound as normal as possible. He’s not sure how successful he was, but damnit, he was trying. “‘M right here, doll.” 

Clint was moving in an instant, and three steps later was standing in front of Bucky. He cocked his head a little and smiled, “Buck, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” 

Bucky laughed, and if it sounded a lot like a sob, no one said anything. “That’s fuckin’ awful, Clint,” he said as he wrapped his arms around his archer. 

Clint, melted against Bucky, burying his face in Bucky’s neck and said “Nah, it’s hilarious. Missed you, Buck,” then dropped his voice to an almost whisper, “‘m scared.” 

Bucky ran his hands up and down Clint’s back. “I know, Love. It’s gonna be ok.” 

The stayed like for what felt like a short lifetime, until Phil cleared his throat. “We’re all tired. Let’s all go get some rest and we’ll debrief later.” 

Bucky lifted his head to glare at him, pissed that he could be in full Agent mode at a time like that, but one look at the usually perfectly composed man made it clear that Phil was more than a little frayed at the edges, and was actually offering an out. He really looked at Phil and Natasha and realized that whatever happened had been hard on all of them. Bucky took the out for what it was, and pulled back from Clint a little. 

“Alright, doll, let’s go home,” Bucky said gently, as he wrapped his right arm around Clint’s waist and pulled the blonde tightly to his side and he made a slow step toward the elevator. 

Clint shot him a grateful look, and something in Bucky loosened, glad that he had apparently done the right thing here. He thrilled a little at the fact he knew Clint well enough to know that demanding he ride back to their apartment in a wheelchair or something would have offended him and caused a fight. 

* * *

The walk back to their place took a little longer than usual, but they made it without incident. As soon as they made it inside, though, it was a different story. It was like the door closing behind them caused something to shatter in Clint, and he gasped out, “Fuck, Bucky, I’m so scared.” 

Bucky was on him in an instant, wrapping in a tight hug. He made gentle shushing noises and whispered soft reassurances into Clint’s hair while the blonde shook in his arms. He let them stay like that until Lucky, who had been sitting patiently watching his dads stand in the doorway, finally ran out of patience and came up and scratched at Clint’s leg. 

“Aw, Lucky. Hey boy.” Clint slowly pulled away from Bucky and sank to his knees next to his beloved yellow lab. “I missed you, boy,” he said as he nuzzled Lucky’s neck. 

Alpine, not to be left out of the love-fest, jumped up on Clint’s shoulder and headbutted him in the neck. Clint let out a wet laugh and brought his hand up to scratch at the top of the cat’s head. “Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too, Asshole.” 

Bucky watched the scene with a small smile on his face for a few minutes before he broke it up. “Ok, guys, we’re all happy dad’s home, but let’s get him settled in. Clint, how about a shower?” 

Clint grimaced a little, but nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to not smell like antiseptic, but, uh….” he trailed off. 

“Oh, no, pal. You’ve been gone for two weeks. If you think there’s any chance that I’m gonna let you outta my s-” he caught himself and took a quick breath before continuing, “-arms, you are sorely mistaken, Hawk.” 

“Nice save, there,” Clint said with a smirk. “You don’t have to worry about, you know. Stuff like that. This is only temporary.” Had Bucky not had super-soldier hearing he’d have missed the “-or so they say” he murmured at the end. 

“Hey, no. None of that. I looked it up. You’re gonna be fine. Now, let’s get you soapy, wet, and naked.” 

Clint just grinned sadly at him and started walking towards the bedroom. It unnerved Bucky a little bit. If he didn’t know better, he’d have no idea that Clint was temporarily blind. It spoke volumes of Clint’s spatial awareness and memory, skills that he knew were hard won and honed over years in incredibly tricky situations. It tugged at his heart, how hard Clint’s life had been, but it turned him into the incredible man that stood in front of him, and he found he couldn’t really be anything other than exceptionally grateful for it. He didn’t let himself think on it for long before he was following Clint into the bathroom, picking up the clothes that Clint dropped along the way. 

They made it to the shower, and Clint stopped in front of it and looked a little lost. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked, concerned by the look on Clint’s face. 

“I hafta…” he trailed off and gestured vaguely at his head. 

Ah, Bucky got it. He stepped towards his floundering boyfriend, and brought his hands up to cup Clint’s cheeks, slowly sliding his hands back and down around his neck until his fingers were just behind the hearing aids tucked behind his ears. “I’ve got you, you know that, right? If it’s too much, just say the word. I’d be happy t’give ya a sponge bath,” he said, trying to somehow infuse a leer into his voice. It must have worked, because it got a small smile out of Clint, who took a deep breath and softly said, “no….no, it’s ok. I trust you.” 

It wasn’t the first time Clint had said those words to him, but Bucky felt bowled over every time it happened. “Thank you,” he said softly, and followed it up with a gentle kiss to the forehead. Then he ran his hands down Clint’s arms, twining their fingers together before bringing Clint’s hand up to kiss each knuckle on Clint’s left hand, before turning it over to kiss his palm. “I’m gonna try something, ok?” 

“Gonna try a bunch of kinky shit now that we don’t have to worry about a blindfold falling off?” Clint was aiming for funny, but there was a twinge of nervousness in his voice that made him miss by a mile. 

“No, Clint. Nothing like that. Never-” 

Clint leaned forward and cut him off with a quick kiss to the lips. “I was kidding, Buck. I know you’d...I know you.” 

Next thing Clint knew, his palm had been placed gently on Bucky’s throat, and he could feel Bucky swallow. 

“You do know me, Clint,” Bucky started, watching as Clint’s eyes widened comically when he realized what Bucky was doing, was putting his hand - an assassin’s hand - at his throat, such a vulnerable place, so that Clint could feel that Bucky was talking, even if he couldn’t hear what was being said. 

“No, Buck,” Clint choked out. 

As soon as Clint said ‘no’, Bucky started to pull away, but was stopped when Clint’s fingers tightened slightly around his throat. “Clint, ‘m sorr-,” he started, but was cut off by another exclamation from the blonde. 

“No! Stay! I mean - I don’t know what I mean. Shit.” 

“Breath, Clint,” Bucky said softly, still standing with Clint’s hands at his throat. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Please.” 

“I...dunno. Buck… you can’t. I’ve...it’s too much. There’s trust, and then there’s puttin your neck in an assassins hands. I dont-” he really had no idea what to say. 

Bucky brought his metal hand up to the side of Clint’s neck and applied the most gentle pressure he could. Clint couldn’t see the absolutely unamused expression on Bucky’s face at Clint’s lack of reaction to having a weapon resting against his jugular. 

Clint huffed a laugh. “Ok, point taken. I just… you’re too good, Buck.” 

Instead of trying to tell Clint he was wrong, which would only result in an argument they’d had - that they’d each been on both sides of - a hundred times, he just kissed Clint’s forehead again. “Whatever you said, Clint. I’m going to turn the water on, and then I’m gonna take your aids out, and we’ll take a shower. Sound ok?” 

Clint nodded his agreement, and before long they were hugged up against each other under the warm water. Bucky brought Clint’s hand back to his throat and explained what he was doing as he did it. He kept as much of himself touching as much of Clint as possible, but there wasn’t anything sexual about it; it was just a way to make sure Clint knew he was still there. Eventually, BUcky slid himself down Clint’s body until he was kneeling in front of him to wash his legs. Clint floated on the feelings of comfort and soft and _love_ for a while, until he realized that the loofah was gone, and Bucky was tracing random patterns on his skin with his fingers, occasionally accenting the shapes with soft kisses. A few beats later, and Clint realized that Bucky must be tracing his new bruises and cuts. 

“Hey,” he started with a soft giggle. “You are just using this to make sure I’m not actually hurt.” 

Bucky pressed his face into Clint’s belly, so the blonde could feel his smile as he traced G-U-I-L-T-Y over his abs. 

“Tracing words into my skin?” Clint asked, more giggles than words. “Aw, my very own little Miracle Worker.” 

He felt a twitch in Bucky’s throat that must have been a chuckle that was followed by a soft bite to his hip and Bucky tracing T-O-N-Y-J-O-K-E. 

“Yeah, I am gonna have to tell Stark. He’ll think it’s funny. But, um, I think I’m plenty clean, love.” 

Bucky hummed in agreement, and slowly stood up, again sliding against Clint’s body as he did. He quickly turned off the water and guided Clint out of the shower with a gentle hand to the hip. 

In a few minutes they were clean and dry and both dressed in soft sleep clothes, and Bucky put Clint’s hand back to his throat. Clint could feel the rumble along with the letters B-E-D being traced into his skin. 

“Yes, please. Dunno if I’ll sleep, but ‘m tired.” 

Bucky didn’t bother nodding, but he grabbed Clint’s hearingaids and pressed them into his open hand, while tracing a question mark over his side. 

“I, uh, no thanks? My head’s busting as it is.” 

He felt what something that he was pretty sure a growl come from Bucky’s throat, followed by P-I-L-L-S being traced against his skin. 

“Nah, I’ll live. Just sleep. 

He felt the growl again, but Bucky didn’t press. Before long, they were both tucked under the covers in their ridiculously large bed and Bucky was tugging him into position, which amused Clint to no end. He figured Bucky hadn’t steered him wrong yet, so he went with it, and the next thing he knew, he was sprawled out with his head on Bucky’s chest and his hand at Bucky’s throat. Bucky patted the bed, and he felt what had to have been Lucky jumping up and flopping over to lay across their legs, followed by Alpine curling up against the top of his head. 

He felt surprisingly calm for the first time since he opened his eyes to darkness. He was the luckiest, luckiest man in the world. 

Bucky he felt the rumble in Bucky’s chest and throat and asked “wassat?” His answer was something smooth and flat being rubbed against his arm. Ah, a book. He smiled into Bucky’s chest and murmured “ah, bedtime story. You thought of everything.” 

* * *

He must have dozed off at some point, and had no idea how long he’d been out. He was still warm and comfortable and sprawled across his boyfriend’s chest, and for a minute he forgot about, well, everything. He slowly opened his eyes to look at the gorgeous man underneath him, but was stopped short when his eyes were assaulted by BRIGHT LIGHT. 

“Ak! Bright Fuck!” he squawked, throwing his forearms over his eyes. 

Bucky was up instantly, dislodging Clint as he sat up abruptly. It took a few seconds for everything to come back to him, and he set a hand on Clint’s check and started writing W-H-AT-... when Clint swatted his hand away. 

“That’s gonna take forever,” Clint groaned. “Gimme my aids, it’ll be faster.” 

Seconds later his hearing aids were pressed into his palm. He sat up and got himself situated, eyes jammed shut. 

“Clint?” Bucky asked, and the worry in his voice made Clint’s heart clench. “What’s wrong, doll?” 

“‘S bright. FRIDAY, turn the lights down, please?” The AI blacked out the windows, but didn’t say anything. “Thank’s, Fri,” Clint said automatically. He stopped questioning the fact he thanked a robot on a regular basis. 

Slowly he opened his eyes and was relieved to see that, well, he could see. Sort of. Everything was very bright and all the edges were fuzzy, but it was a marked improvement over what he’d dealt with the past couple of days. 

He felt Bucky sitting unnaturally still next to him, and he wanted to laugh. “‘M fine, Buck. Vision is coming back. Kinda.” 

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and melted against Clint. “Holy fuck, sweetheart. Scared the shit outta me.” He wrapped his arms around Clint and held him as tightly as he could. 

“Thanks, Buck, but, uh,” he giggled and poked Bucky in the side. “Gotta breathe, love.” 

Bucky pulled back quickly. “Shit, yeah,” he laughed. “Sorry about that.” He sobered quickly. “But what does ‘kinda’ mean?” 

“Everything is sorta orange and fuzzy and...dark? But. Better!” Clint tried not to be disappointed that things weren’t back to normal yet, but he’d been warned it could take up to a week for that to happen, and he would never be able to forget the unspoken “if it ever comes back” at the end of the doc’s words. 

“Shh,” Bucky murmured as he pulled Clint back against him. “It’ll get better. Wanna go down to Medical and have them check you out anyway? Or call Bruce?” 

Clint actually thought about it, but it was still early, and he didn’t want to set himself up for disappointment. And he really didn’t want to break the contentment of being snuggled up against his supersoldier in their crazy-comfortable bed. “Nah, m’good for now. Read to me s’more?” 

Bucky kissed his forehead. “Sure, darlin’. Aids in, or no?” 

Clint hummed. “Like last night, please. I, uh. Thank you? I… really liked that. I would, uh…” he trailed off. 

Bucky gave him a quick squeeze. “Clint, you can ask for things, you know. Did you like that?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, really liked it. Could we do it again?” 

“Mmm,” Bucky kissed his forehead, “I liked it, too. Anytime you want, sweetheart. Just ask.” 

* * *

They spend most of the next three days curled up together, either in bed or on the couch. Every time Clint woke up he got a little bit more vision back, until he woke up one morning and it was back completely. Tony threw a stupid party in honor of his being able to see. Everything was bright and colorful and high contrast, and it was an entirely ridiculous excuse to eat pizza and drink Stark’s good booze, but he appreciated it more than he could possibly say. 

After the party he and Bucky crawled into bed, him a little tipsy, and Bucky a lot amused. 

“Buck, I can’t thank you enough.” 

“I’m going to stop you there, Clint. You can. You do, all the time. I love you.” 

“Mmkay,” he hummed sleepily, “I love you, Buck.” He hummed those last few words into Bucky’s skin as he sank into sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I am glad you exist, and I hope you are having a good day.


End file.
